


You'll Be Back

by lesboinspace



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Hamilton song inspirtation, Hero AU, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Seriously unwanted attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesboinspace/pseuds/lesboinspace
Summary: Mysterion disappears and returns a villain, Wonder Tweek is missing with others on the team vanishing with him, and Super Craig just wishes that everyone would just leave his partner/boyfriend the hell alone. He's got enough problems as it is (both of them do).Super Hero AU; main characters are in their early twenties





	You'll Be Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was very much heavily inspired by SpiderCat Animated on YT but the video (an animatic of You’ll Be Back from Hamilton) was removed for copyright reasons. Basically, this is a take on her AU where Mysterion loves Tweek, but as Tweek is with Craig, becomes angry and thirsts for vengeance. He then leaves to develop his powers and eventually kidnaps Tweek to be with him. Since the video and AU left many things open to interpretation, I took advantage of the opportunity to portray her situation through my perspective. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!  
> *a repost from gubby3, my old account; I combined all of the chapters into one long one since I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this 0: I only will if there's enough interest asdfghjk  
> I switched so my Ao3 name would match my Tumblr!!

He first notices upon sudden consciousness the rope coiled around him. It digs uncomfortably into his sides and locks his arms behind his back and feet together. The aching bruises come next, his entire body sore and decrepit. Feeling too much and observing so little through the blurry mess in front of him, Tweek does his best not to panic. He's unable to suppress a few shudders, stemming from both cold and fear, which the artificial snake punishes by reminding him of its presence with a harsh clench. An uninvited drum starts to beat in his head and Tweek chomps on his bottom lip to avoid weeping. Tears threaten to spill while he takes in every bit of painful stimulation in addition to the terrifying loss of bearings. Carefully as he can, Tweek inhales a deep breath. The desire to freak the hell out is somewhat pacified by thoughts of his partner, so Tweek focuses only on the air coming and going through his body. No longer is he just some anxious, easily disturbed child, nor is this the time to act like it. Nothing comes from cowering, and he’s a hero for Christ’s sake.

Not merely Tweek, but Wonder Tweek, the champion of justice!

Regardless of how gay Craig thinks it sounds. He has no right to judge, being his boyfriend and all.

With his mind beginning to clear the chill of the room is restlessly tangible and more understood as Tweek surveys the surroundings: a rust-infested warehouse occupied by nothing but stacked crates and the chair keeping him captive. His eyelids are quick to fall, the headache making even the barely lit environment too intense to look at. Tweek directs the entirety of his concentration towards morphing the darkness into a hill. Plentiful sunlight paints the grass, trees, and his hair golden. Here, in this realm, everything is glorious and perfect and safe. He’s free, definitely not trapped in some creepy psycho’s lair that’s bound to give him hypothermia (this is coming from an ice conjurer, mind you). The brief mental description sends another chill across his spine, crash-landing Tweek back into reality. A whine escapes past his lips. He throws his head up to the looming ceiling in despair like he’s already given up, the inability to center himself for more than a minute creating a crack in his resolve. Tweek refuses to cry but the urge hits him so strongly that the dam nearly bursts.

Questions loop dizzyingly fast in the hero’s mind, each one flocking the other so that they mesh and become nothing but random, excess words failing to exist as proper sentences. His stomach twists at the unnecessary nausea from the racing thoughts being too convoluted to process. It’s as if Tweek is trying to read in a car that’s doing backflips, or that every piece of his mind has been replaced with little Fastpasses speeding around the world. Tweek’s heart spasms in tandem with his throbbing head and he wonders if he’s going to pass out or vomit first.

 

This is why Tweek should never be left alone with his thoughts.  
While the hero has been kidnapped once before, by Craig’s crazy fanboy Michael, it’s not something he’s ever going to adjust to. Not that he plans on being held hostage again if he makes it out of whatever the hell this is.  
When he makes it out, of course.  
Right?

Probably…

Maybe?

Tweek always prefers his partner by his side, but now, Craig’s absence is ripping him apart. He knows how selfish it is and hates himself for it, yet Tweek wishes that Craig were trapped here with him.  
A sudden breeze strikes him from behind, along with the creaking open of a door scratching his befuddled brain. The weeping wind outside is silenced as the door slides shut. Footsteps bounce off the wide berth of the warehouse, their travel towards the center of the room drawn out and precise.

Damn this cruel bastard and their dramatics. Being tied to a chair in a dim, abandoned lot isn't enough for this asshole? He grinds his teeth at the unexpected annoyance. Tweek allows for his fear to boil over into frustration, blocking the panic that nearly spiked at the entrance of the unknown soul taking their sweet time. Each stride doesn't have to be calculated! Why does it seem that all villains are obsessed with building up unnecessary tension instead of getting to the point? They’d surely have more victories if further attention were diverted to the schemes rather than the buildup of their assumed success.

Bless the buffoonery of some bad guys. It makes Tweek’s job a tad easier.

Nevertheless, Tweek’s breath halts in his throat as he waits in agony for the owner of the slow feet to be within view. Turning his head to steal a glimpse is pointless, the bonds’ grip denying Tweek a simple peek over his shoulder.  
Luckily his captor is considerate enough to speak before facing him. He does have a handful of experience with his teammate’s anxiety, after all.

“It’s nice to finally see you awake,” his voice reverberates off each distant wall, the familiarity of it making the echoes so much harder for Tweek to hear, “I’m sorry for the dull scenery, but there aren’t many places that fly under our pals’ radar. I would’ve whisked you off to Paris or something if it were doable. My apologizes to your face too. I’ve had a bunch of dangerous feelings bottled up since our last chat, and I guess my rage slipped out a bit.”  
Tweek’s mind races faster than ever. Shaking his head, the hero swallows down the sickness that erupts in his gut. His heart pounds and each inhale is shorter than the last. Words crawl out of his mouth, the urgent need for answers overwhelming the growing hysteria. His voice has limited itself to a whisper, but Tweek can feel the new weight of a hand on the chair tipping the wood back slightly. The other’s close presence is far from comforting, unlike how it used to be. Tweek almost chokes on his words as pleasant memories drown him.

“Why did you leave Freedom Pals because of me? I-I wanted to work through what happened, but you just left us without saying goodbye.”

With a swift yank the chair tilts back. Meeting Mysterion’s gaze leaves Tweek momentarily hollow, the reality of the situation undeniable: the immortal is holding him prisoner. Tweek wants to look away, at anything else, but the mischief twinkling in the other’s eyes and his arrogant grin are too odd to ignore. They don’t belong behind Mysterion’s mask, they don’t make sense there. These are Kenny’s signature traits. It’s been too long since Tweek has seen them, the rise in crime locking every hero to their suited persona for longer and longer. Mysterion’s dreary, stoic personality had been leeching the optimism out of Kenny as well. The leader never admitted it, but Tweek noticed. He too never spoke of the darker aura surrounding Kenny outside of his costume.

 

It disturbs Tweek more than anything else in this moment that the wolfish, almost playful smile morphs further away from being at all pleasant as it stretches farther across Mysterion’s face. He looks more like a robot trying to emote, and malfunctioned. What has happened to his highly respected superior, to his friend?

 

A dramatic sigh breaks the tension and their staring contest. Mysterion lifts his hand from the chair, letting it rock before it steadies itself, and ruffles Tweek’s hair. He continues running his gloved fingers through the blonde locks even as Tweek leans as far away as he can. His hand grips a fistful of strands, Mysterion enjoying the sight of a helpless Tweek.  
“What can I say? Love makes you do crazy things. I mean, look around you!” Mysterion twirls around his captive, waving his arms around like it'll explain what it is Tweek isn’t seeing. “This is all thanks to my feelings for you. Do you seriously think I’d kidnap you if it weren’t for the power of love?”

Tweek has endless reasons to vomit.

 

Anxious thoughts are similar to strangers who hover in the darkness. They harbor dread and fright and do their best to make only shadows known, but leave all else to them omitted. Each concealed figure is a present but unclear problem, and therefore, offers no possible solutions regardless of how desperately it needs to be resolved for clarity’s sake. More and more doubts cling to the mist of one’s mind, feeding off the obscuring fog, enjoying the panic they instill as illogical fears corner the owner's brain who's supposed to be in control, too pathetic to stay grounded and live as a whole-

Tweek’s unoccupied hand digs into his hair, tugging on the strands like he used to as a child when the slightest bit of anxiety revealed itself. He knows what just took place, although he doesn’t want to accept it, but the hero isn’t exactly sure where he is. Location is an irrelevant detail, his mind attempting to register so much that no cogs turn at all. Tweek is frozen, a victim to his own mental misfirings.

Warmth envelopes his trembling, hunched frame and Tweek nearly jumps off the tree he’d been leaning on. Craig falters for a moment, his eyes soft as he meets Tweek’s trembling gaze before wrapping the blanket around his partner’s exposed back and legs.

“What are you doing over here? We’ve been waiting outside but Mysterion said he lost sight of you once he let you out. Human Kite wants to run some tests with the med team to make sure you’re not in any danger.”

“I’m in danger of losing my sanity! Will the medics spot that, Craig? Not like I need them to point that out to me anyway.”

It’s the first words they’ve spoken to each other since Mysterion had discovered and freed Wonder Tweek from Michael Hansen. The heated look from his partner is certainly not what Super Craig was expecting. He’d only just heard about what had happened to Tweek from their leader, so right now, Craig wishes for nothing more than to cradle his love and tell him that he’s safe, for both their sakes. The obsessed fanboy had kidnapped Tweek and eventually left him stripped to his briefs inside a meat locker. Luckily, Tweek’s powers had slowed the hypothermia process, random ice shards lingering on his still tinted blue skin. His body shakes but it’s not from the cold.

“Babe...”

“I-I’m not a child or some damsel. I don’t need a damn comfort blanket, so take it and get the hell away from me!” With a sudden lurch forward Tweek attempts to cast the cover off, but Craig grips it in place. Both grit their teeth.

“If you act like a kid you’re going to get treated like one. Why the fuck did you wander off after Kenny got you out of that basement? I need you to talk to me, dammit!”

‘Tell me that you're okay.’

Tweek’s stare hardens before he turns his angry eyes to the distant light of the ambulance’s blaring sirens. During his brief panic attack the noise hadn’t existed to him. Now, back in reality, the alarms begin to deteriorate his stoic bravado. They’re too loud, everything is far too loud. And it’s killing him.

The newfound silence isn’t helping Craig’s ordinarily calm nerves, which are completely on edge. Why is Tweek pushing everyone away?

More importantly, why is he pushing Craig away?

Craig clutches Tweek’s shoulders, his brows furrowed and glare intensifying at being ignored. He’d been scared to death and still is, yet Tweek refuses to mutter another word, finding sanctity in the silent treatment.

That’s when it happens: the love of his life cries out in pain, and all at once Craig realizes how badly he’s fucked up. He hates himself for not noticing sooner. Part of Craig blames the evening darkness looming over them, but he ultimately blames his frustration and pent up fear for blinding him from the obvious.

A bullet had embedded itself in the skin of Tweek’s shoulder. Blood stains his bare chest from where some has slithered down, more continuing to pour through the blonde’s fingers, their efforts to serve as a tourniquet to the fresh wound feeble. Craig gapes at wound before his eyes drift back to Tweek’s face, which is scrunched in pain. Never has the fellow hero seen his already pale boyfriend lacking so much color, Tweek might as well be a ghost. The blonde’s entire form is quivering and littered with cuts. Craig’s heart thunders in his chest. When Tweek directs his full attention back to him, Craig wonders if he heard it.

The worst part of this is that Tweek has the audacity to smile. It’s grief-stricken, small and so obviously painful and Craig doesn’t understand why or what is going on. He is only aware of his heart as it shatters right in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Craig,” Tweek’s bruised, bloody cheeks are quickly drenched as his facade breaks and his lips fall in tandem with a new sort of salty river flowing across it, “I’m so, so sorry. I just…”

Tweek falters for a single second, biting his lip in contemplation before he throws himself into Craig’s chest, who is ready for the embrace with open arms. Craig isn’t unsettled by the sight or scent of blood, but feeling the wetness coat his costume makes him utterly sick. The smell of Tweek’s blood nearly drives him to spill his own tears. Fighting off his shock and desire to interrogate his partner, Craig rocks Tweek in his lap while whispering his usual words of comfort. Having Tweek back, holding him without regard for all else going on in the world, feels just so right to Craig. And after three days that were as torturous as an eternity alone, the pair is reunited at last.

“I didn’t want to see them take Michael’s body away.”

 

Craig is not happy, to say the least. He’s the farthest from happy that he’s been in a long time, and that’s saying something. Four months after Michael Dipshit had somehow managed to sneak up on Tweek and take him hostage, his partner has vanished again. He’s still not entirely sure how the first kidnapping even managed to happen, and oddly enough, neither is Tweek.

How the hell did the most paranoid man he know get caught off guard by some civilian kid?

 

Back and forth Tweek’s head rocks, banging and swaying like a struck gong. It's a miracle that he hasn't vomited yet, though the need to gag is kept in check by Mysterion’s weight on his lap. A gloved hand runs across his chest to his stomach. The strokes are feathery light in their rhythm over his costume, but underneath his skin, Tweek’s insides feel as if they're being mangled, an invisible fist gripping and tearing them apart until the organs become one unidentifiable chunk of gory uselessness. His constant nausea makes him question if Kenny had drugged him at some point. It’s difficult to distinguish between anxiety and actual physical disturbances.

Tweek bites his lip in frustration and shame. How can he properly serve as the team's one of two medics if he can't even discern what symptoms are self-induced through stress and what requires medical attention?

“I remember you telling me that you'll never be able to love anyone else but that arrogant, sarcastic piece of breathing shit.” Kenny’s voice is so soft, so gentle as he speaks that Tweek’s scrambled brain nearly doesn't register the insults. His cruel words were camouflaged within the artificial sweetness of Mysterion’s lax, unfitting tone, similar to a transparent poison. A finger glides across the hero’s cheek. Tweek immediately scrunches his eyes shut, doing what he can to escape the treacherous caress.

“Honey, please look at me.” Mysterion lifts both hands to cup the blonde’s cheeks, “I want to see those expressive eyes of yours.”

His whole body quakes at the touch, but Tweek refuses to budge. The command was far too saccharine to have been dictated by genuine desire. It didn’t take long after he’d regained consciousness for Tweek to realize Mysterion’s enjoyment at his position of authority and control over his captive. He's terrified beyond belief, yet the hero summons what strength he can to not give in. Simply being uncooperative is as much as he can do to fight back right now.  
A whimper threatens to slip out of his trembling lips. For a moment, Tweek manages to hold it in, but a low growl from Mysterion forces out a small whine.

“Look at me, dammit!”

He heard the strike of thunderous clap against his cheek before he felt its sting. Tears well up in Tweek’s eyes instantly as they shoot open, the sharp pain lighting his dulled senses aflame. All at once he becomes aware of everything and nothing, his mind acknowledging each bit of discomfort and hurt, along with the details of the crates and walls surrounding him. The pointless stains and scratches marking the hero’s surroundings are suddenly the most vibrant, clear aspects in his sight, regardless of Mysterion being a large blur in the center of Tweek’s view.

“Now, back to my point. You went on and on that fateful day about being Craig’s soulmate. It was really cute, but left me at a disadvantage. I mean, what can I do against destiny?” Even with Tweek still suffering from whiplash, his comprehension stretching enough to just now understand that his neck had snapped back against the chair from Mysterion’s slap, he is able to notice how nonchalantly the other continues on as if he were never interrupted.

“Well, what if I take matters into my own hands and rip Shithead Craig’s soul from his body? What do you say to me stepping in and solving this problem for the both of us?” Mysterion says this all with a continuously stretching grin. He waits impatiently for Tweek’s response, leaning closer to the blonde with each passing second like a child promised a treat. Instead of words, Mysterion is greeted with a mouthful of saliva and blood.

Taken so off guard, Kenny falls off Tweek’s lap and onto the cold, hard concrete with a harsh thud. He raises a hand to his face, dipping his fingertips into the mix of bodily fluids. Mysertion teeth grind as he scowls up at his supposed to be powerless hostage.

“Bitch, did you just spit on me?”

Shaking, crying and bleeding, the hero in chains finds courage.

“I-I may be a coward when it comes to defending myself,” Tweek’s subtle proclamation wavers for only a moment before growing in strength and volume, “But I won’t let you threaten my partner, my boyfriend, without a fight.” He pauses for only a second to release a heavy sigh, leaving behind any fear or regret, “and don’t you dare call me honey ever again! That right belongs to Craig alone.”

All sentimentality is discarded as Kenny hardens his stare into a weapon, his gaze glowing purple and promising devastation as he growls out a response.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

 

In the pit of night a hero fades away, concealed by darkness’ embrace as it attempts to claim him. Tweek faintly registers Craig beside him, panicked as he could ever sound, but the blonde can’t make out a single word. All of Tweek’s senses are going numb. His vision is a mesh of shapes and colors like some abstract painting. His ears ring and have been doing so since Michael shot him, but after being freed from the meat locker it has become far less irritating, though is still screwing with his general awareness, along with contributing to his constant stumbling. Everything just feels cold. There’s no pain anymore, nor is there bliss. This isn’t a reprieve: it’s purgatory.

‘Am I going to die?’

‘Am I already dead?’

‘Is Craig dead too?’

Before Tweek can start to fret over why Craig is with him in the afterlife, the arm around his waist that’s saved him from toppling over several times drops (he just realized that it was even there to begin with, unable to feel the touch through his unresponsive skin). In an instant he nearly falls forward, but is instead swept off his feet. Tweek immediately groans, his injured shoulder emerging from its slumber by throbbing once more at the sudden jerky movement of Craig hoisting him up, one hand under his knees and the other wrapping around his back. The briefly forgotten pang returns with a vengeance, the ache so intense that each of Tweek’s limbs spasm. Tears don’t hesitate to cascade down his face, some sinking into several recent cuts.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, you just looked so exhausted and I thought this would be easier on you...” Craig’s voice is unsteady, barely resembling his usual monotone, “I didn’t mean to cause you more pain. Did you hear me when I asked if you wanted to be picked up?”

Tweek stares into Craig’s eyes, his own glassy as he fights to keep them open. A high pitched giggle dispenses from his lips, sounding so out of place that Craig wonders if his partner is about to have a panic attack. Curling into the brunette’s chest, Tweek enjoys the heat pooling into him. Finally, some pleasant stimulation. He’s been deprived of it for days.

“Don’t be stupid, ya dummy,” lifting a hand, the blonde lets out another slurred laugh as he pats Craig’s cheek like one would when consoling a child, “It was an accident. Mistakes make us human, no one’s a perfect. Don’tcha remember that classic Montana Hannah song?”

If Craig was nervous before, he’s now on the verge of losing it. He speeds up his pace while landing as softly as he can to not rustle Tweek around too much.

‘He’s lost a lot of blood, so he must be getting loopy...Confusion is normal, right? His skin is too pale and he’s lighter than usual...’

What the hell happened it him?

“Sure, honey, I remember it.” His grip on Tweek tightens, forcing himself to remain stoic in order to fight off his own watery ducts. Craig doesn’t have enough hands to wipe at them if tears were to fall, and he needs to keep it together or Tweek may not survive.

His boyfriend could die in arms.

Each member on their team knows basic first aid. Craig had fastened a temporary bind around the wound with his shirt, but Craig isn’t a medic like Kyle…

Or Tweek.

“Actually, I can’t think of the lyrics. Why don’t you sing it for me?” He may not be a professional, but Craig could easily see the blonde’s struggle to stay awake. Giving Tweek an activity to focus on should be beneficial for both of them.

The pair travels toward the ambulance's distant glow, the only source of light besides the minimal stars observing their plight from above. Tweek’s gentle murmurs caress the otherwise eerie quiet.

“Nobody’s perfect, I gotta work it again and again ‘til I get it right…”

 

Gasps, whimpers and cries spill out of Tweek’s mouth in unison like a broken tune as he absorbs every excruciating blow. Each punch follows directly after the other, the attack blending into a single, violent massacre.

“Listen to your voice echo off the walls, sunshine,” Mysterion pauses his assault to hover above his captive, letting out small puffs from the exertion with a grin, “You’re a symphony.”

“You…” Blood stains Tweek’s headband and drips from his nose. His hunched frame trembles so strongly that the chair begins to shuffle. He pants as he sucks in large mouthfuls of air, nearly choking on them due to inhaling so manically. The hero heaves out dry coughs, suffering just to remember the proper pace for breathing. Tweek’s eyes clench shut as he focuses on the oblivion in front of him in order to get ahold of himself. It takes all the determination he has left to not plea for mercy. “What’s happened to you?”

Throughout the beatings and head-spinning transitions between Mysterion’s monologues full of insults to love, Tweek has hardly had a moment to form a coherent thought. Only minor resemblances of words and images have fled in and out of his mind between the madness:

Craig.

Love.

Kenny.

Blood.

Mysterion…

Why?

For what feels like a gratifying eternity, there is silence. Tweek takes this time to ground himself as much as he’s able, centering his sight on his boots being gradually rained on by his bleeding forehead. There’s a consistent pattern to the rise and fall of his chest now. Such a normal thing shouldn’t feel like a blessing, yet this ten seconds of peace is enough for the hero to reaffirm his goal at complete disobedience. As Tweek’s brain returns to functioning, his first uninterrupted thought concerns what could’ve caused Mysterion to seemingly snap.

‘I did turn him down, but that can’t be the only reason that he’s like this, right?’

Then Tweek is dealt a roundhouse kick to his gut and every cog in his head freezes once more. The chair crashes against the floor, a deafening boom filling the entirety of the warehouse with the hero’s scream accompanying it not far behind.

“Sweetie, there’s no need to ask questions. Accept that this is going to be your life until you fall in love with me. All you have to do is give in and the pain will end. I'd say that I don't enjoy hitting you, but that wouldn't be entirely true.” Bending down, Mysterion grips Tweek’s chin, uncurling it from the blonde’s chest. Eyelids refuse to rise, and Mysterion can't help but smirk. He rolls his eyes as if this were nothing more than common banter among lovers. “C’mon, Twix, we just went through this. Don't make me punish you again...Unless you're into the rough treatment.”

At those words Tweek’s tilted body goes rigid along the cold ground, even the fire in his abused stomach comes to a halt. His eyes almost shoot open at the insinuation: his resistance distorted into a sickening summation by the villain of being mere masochism. Somehow he manages to keeps his gaze inaccessible, still set on the most minimal forms of revolt. Mysterion’s hold tightens.

“That's it, isn't it? Was Craig not man enough to give you what you wanted in the bedroom? You're obviously craving another beating.” Tweek meekly attempts to turn his head away, eliciting a low chuckle from the villain. “Were you too embarrassed to admit that you love being smacked around a little?”

Mysterion grins, twisting the blonde’s chin forward. Their noses nearly meet, Mysterion close enough to smell the blood dampening Tweek’s skin and clogging his breath. The villain’s eyes shimmer with lustful excitement as Tweek bites his lip to dam the onoming tears. A sudden smack to his cheek breaks Tweek’s control over his curtained eyelids. They jump open in tandem with the salt rivers that pour down Tweek’s face.

“Finally! You have the most beautiful eyes, they’re like a blue night with a glittering moon...”

Nausea floods Tweek’s insides at the unwanted attention, a part of him ready to panic as he’s abruptly hit with clawing desperation. He wants out right this second.

“Stop. Please, stop.”

Like always, Mysterion continues as if Tweek hadn't spoken. Instead, he playfully pokes Tweek’s red nose.

“Anyway, if that's the case, there's no need to be shy with me. I'll give you whatever you desire.”

The utter selfishness Mysterion has presented since Tweek regained consciousness almost makes the hero snort at the villain’s sentiment. Not once has his old friend demonstrated a semblance of kindness towards his unwilling guest. Anger bubbles in Tweek’s chest at the display of blatant hypocrisy, supposedly an example of just how deranged Mysterion has become. This freak in front of Tweek is no longer his admirable leader, but merely some sick joke.

“Why don't you go offer yourself to the Christmas Critters? Watching that would bring me way more pleasure than anything else you could ever do.”

Tweek grits his teeth, frustration temporarily arming him with courage as he glares daggers into his captor. Mysterion simply releases a drawn out sigh.

“Would you quit acting so stubborn? Your childish attitude isn't appreciated.”

Those words bring Tweek back to months ago when Craig had used similar phrasing after Tweek had aimlessly wandered out of Michael’s cage. The memory gives Tweek strength as he recalls how his boyfriend had been on the verge of tears. Never has the blonde witnessed Craig crying, and that moment left him humbled. It’s a reminder of how much he’s cherished. Whatever Kenny is feeling towards him is anything but love.

With refreshed energy, Tweek springs forward and bites Mysterion’s looming finger.

“Dammit! I should get you a muzzle, fucking bitch...” The villain rubs at his aching hand, appearing more offended than anything else. In one swift motion Mysterion shoves the wounded digit into Tweek’s mouth. His captive sputters in shock, but the finger is removed so quickly that the only evidence that it occurred is the saliva coating Mysterion’s glove. “Pull that shit again and next time it won’t be my finger. We gotta put those lips to good use at some point...”

The fury raging inside Tweek dies down at Mysterion’s simultaneous threat and promise. Dread encapsules him, weighing down the hero as he fully realizes how screwed he is. Mysterion, in every aspect, has the upper hand. He's also gone insane or something, so there's no telling what an obsessed man bearing unlimited options could do to Tweek. Not even a sense of morality will get in Mysterion’s way since he is no longer equipped with one. His captor must've noticed Tweek’s internal breakdown because he reverts back to a pleasant demeanor.

“No worries, love. I won't make you do anything that you don't ask for. We should take it slow.” Mysterion pecks Tweek’s brow before standing up, taking immense joy from his raised view. “Besides, I can guarantee that you'll soon be begging for me to touch you.”

“In your dreams…”

Tweek mutters the declaration under his breath, his voice drained of its bravado after the decline in adrenaline. He's not sure of how long it's been since he was taken, likely less than a day, yet the hero is already approaching the end to his courage.

‘I’m pathetic.’

“Babe, having you here, all to myself, is already a dream come true, so it's only a matter of time before everything falls into place. In the meantime, why don’t we fix one of my several missed chances with you? Now we can finally dance like I had wanted to so badly at the Black’s Charity Gala.”

That event, hosted by Tupperware’s wealthy family half a year ago, had been held to raise money for the those affected by a massive oil spill in the nearby coast with the superhero team serving as honored guests. Bits of what happened that night flash in Tweek’s mind: He had entertained attendees on the piano, Craig later joining him with vocals once he'd performed several classics. After speeches from Human Kite, the Coon and Call Girl, the group joined everyone else on the ballroom floor. Tweek had danced with Craig on marble tiles under a millions lights to a live orchestra. It was a magical evening that produced great success for bringing awareness to such devastating errors that take place too often and offering much monetary support to the catastrophe’s victims.

What about that day mattered so much to Kenny?

Tweek doesn't have to wait long for an answer.

“Both on and off the dancefloor, you were an angel under that spotlight. Did you notice me crying during your solo performance? You play so well,” Mysterion’s smile falters, his stare losing its optimism as his eyes harden, “But I was also in tears when Craig led you further away from me, pulling you against him as you two twirled like you were in your own perfect world. You have no idea how badly I wanted to be in his place. Even when we danced together, I knew it wasn’t the same for you. You just didn’t feel that way about me!”

‘Ah, that's right. He asked me to dance and I obliged. I thought it innocent enough, considering everyone else on the team switched partners amongst ourselves for the hell of it. Cartman even danced with Kyle, for Christ’s sake.’

Before Tweek can voice a genuine question, his words become stuck inside his esophagus. Mysterion’s eyes begin to glow, but rather than the usual violet, they burn bright yellow. Tweek’s form shakes at the terrifying spectacle. That specific shade is not one Tweek can forget. It's like he's peering into the deepest depths of hell all over again.

These are the eyes of Cthulhu.

“Now, I'll get you untied so we can relive that moment the way it should've been. Won't you dance with me, honey?”

Tweek lets out the loudest scream of his life.

 

Laying immobile on the chilling concrete, Tweek’s anxiety finally reaches its peak at the sight of Mysterion’s demonic irises. At first his mind is slow to accept what exactly is front of him, the hero’s mouth agape and eyes wide. Once reality clicks in, it doesn’t take long for his chest to sharply rise and fall. Rapid pants exert pressure on his chest as Tweek attempts to shuffle away from the terrifying figure. The chair he’s bound to doesn’t move an inch no matter how many times Tweek tries to push his back and tied legs against the ground. His brain doesn’t register that he’s not at all succeeding, continuously repeating the same futile motion as if it’ll work eventually. Mysterion lets out a deep chuckle and takes his time sauntering up to the hero, whose breathing and awkward scrambling becomes more frantic with each step forward.

“As adorable as you look, I can’t help but laugh,” once Mysterion is hovering over Tweek, he pushes a boot into his shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp that’s nearly lost among the heavy inhales, “You do realize that you’re not going anywhere, right?”

Tweek whines, shaking his head in dismay. Too much is happening and he doesn’t understand the half of it. At this point, Tweek doesn’t want to understand. He pleads to any deities witnessing his plight to let this be some hellish nightmare, that he’s really at home with his team, their leader certainly not deranged and flashing his brand new incubus eyes at him.

“I remember that night perfectly. Rescuing you, the helpless damsel, from that psycho fanboy. You looked so beautiful laying in Michael’s freezer, nearly blue and your ice forming around your thin, bare frame. If it weren’t for the others waiting outside, I would've taken you right there.” Mysterion leans closer, Tweek feeling his breath against his ear, “Well, I might’ve regardless, but then you somehow managed to run off. I was supposed to have my moment with you, carry you out like a princess and shove it in Craig’s face that you were so grateful over me saving you. I didn’t go through all that effort for nothing, honey, but you had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

Each word is saturated in sadistic mocking. Tweek merely does what he can to escape the situation, twisting in the chair uncomfortably. A sudden wetness coats his neck and he can’t stifle a squeak as he realizes that it’s Mysterion’s tongue slithering against bits of his exposed skin. Tweek’s shaking intensifies, biting his lip to hold in any other shameful noises.

“I-I’m not a g-girl…” Tweek manages to mutter as Mysterion continues to assault his neck. The licking comes to a sudden stop and he swears that he’s never been more thankful for anything in his life. Mysterion snorts against the hero’s cheek.

“That’s what you decided to focus on? Damn, you are far too cute for your own good.” Fingers trail along Tweek’s jawline, his trembling not slowing in the least. “Don’t worry, I’m more than aware that you’re not a chick. It makes your lithe body all the more stunning.”

Their close proximity and Mysterion’s relenting heel against Tweek’s not so recent bullet wound causes the blonde to completely fall apart. He turns his head as far back as he’s able to avoid meeting Mysterion’s flaming gaze, tears streaming down his bloody cheeks. Even as he forces Craig’s image to appear in his mind, Tweek can’t stop the violent tremors and painful breaths from decelerating. A growl is emitted above him, daring the hero to fight back. There’s just no way...what is he supposed to do? He could barely handle an obsessed Mysterion, but an obsessed Mysterion with some insane connection to Cthulhu?

‘This can’t be happeningー’

“Look at me!”

The boot digs further into his shoulder, but Tweek hardly notices. His eyelids shoot open at Mysterion’s command as it booms throughout the warehouse, mixed with something that is definitely not human. The hero forces himself not to break eye contact in fear of further repercussions. Staring into those scathing, fiery depths is proving to be its own punishment, Tweek’s body going unnaturally slack. His panic attack ceases while his entire being is entranced by the terrifying sublimity of Mysterion’s copycat eyes. Tweek sees promised decimation swirling in them and it’s absolutely horrific and monstrous and he wants to get out of here!

“Thank you. Now, you’re going to dance with me and you’re going to fucking like it. I mean, it’s not like you have a choice.”

Tweek doesn’t want to know the implications of that last part.

Still, his screeching brain desperately needs something to latch onto, so he finds it in him to seek answers.

“Wait, p-please, just,” the hero swallows another threatening sob, “I...w-what are you?”

“He sold his soul to become Cthulhu’s puppet,” a door slams shut behind him, Tweek’s slanted form jumping at the noise and the introduction to a strangely familiar voice.

“Cartman! You finally decided to join us, and you brought what I requested. Good man,” Mysterion steps out of Tweek’s view, leaving the blonde’s mind to fall further into agonizing bewilderment, “I don’t know if I’d call myself a puppet. After all, what does that make you?”

“What we have is a mutual partnership. I’ll go to certain lengths to claim what I think belongs to me, but I’m not stupid enough to make a deal with a literal devil like you did,” Tweek’s heart races at the brief silence before the third in command (behind Human Kite, oddly enough) continues with a venomous tone, “I’ve said it before and I shouldn’t have to say it again, fag: I’m the goddamn Coon and you will refer to me as such. Don’t you dare try to piss me off, I’m already antsy about this whole thing and won’t hesitate to blow off some steam by kicking your ass.”

Both go mute once more, the lingering quiet making Tweek want to scream. His head pounds to put up with the lack of explanations, unfortunately.

“A pointless threat, but your complaint has been noted,” Mysterion releases an airy laugh before reentering Tweek’s vision with the Coon beside him, a stereo in his claws, “Not that you could do shit to me, darling. I’d destroy you even without my ghoulish upgrade.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Witnessing his superiors stand side by side in front of him, with less answers and more questions, nausea fills his stomach yet again. Tweek is at his limit. There’s only so much he is capable of handling, and whatever this is goes far beyond his capacity.

“I-I have to be dreaming, this has to be a dream!”

“Nope. Do you normally have kinky dreams about Mysterion and me tying you up? Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.”

“We actually discussed that already. Turns out Tweekie Pie likes it rough and Craig is shit in bed!”

“No way! Oh, tell me more, girlfriend, I so have to know!”

“Well, I was demonstrating to my love the consequences of his disobedience, as you can see.”

“Yeah, you definitely did a number on him…”

“And he didn’t even try to get me to stop, so that obviously means he’s got more masochistic desiresー”

“I was being sarcastic, dumbass! God, please don’t talk to me about that crap. I want to be as little involved in your operations as I can be.”

“No fun! So does that mean you don’t want to hear about my plans toー”

“Shut up, just shut up! Please, p-please, I can’t take this anymore,” sobs break past Tweek’s lips, undeterred by his captors’ rampant attention, “Why...Why are you doing this? I-I don’t get it! Will either of you at least do me the most minimal kindness of granting me some explanation? Do I not deserve to know why I’m being held prisoner? I thought it was just M-Mysterion, but now Cthulhu’s somehow involved, and the Coon is here too and…” Tweek sucks in a breath before directing his eyes upwards, steeling himself and staring into Mysterion’s without fidgeting, “...You say you love me. Can’t you show it at all by just offering a morsel of information? I can’t take all this undisclosed shit, I-I just can’t!”

For the first time since regaining initial consciousness, Tweek is faced with a regretful looking Mysterion. The villain’s cocky aura momentarily fades as he stares back at Tweek with honest hurt and longing. Cartman only waits in anticipation, curious of what his partner will do in response. He’s more than aware of how deteriorated their former leader has fallen, but for him, this is too his first time he’s glimpsed at Mysterion appearing human in months. It’s clear to him that, for the short amount of time he’s been his captive, Tweek has experienced plenty of Mysterion’s madness for himself, based on the countless bruises staining his pale skin. Tapping his foot, he turns back to Mysterion to see that he’s still in shock, as if unsure how to proceed. Impatient as always, the Coon clears his throat.

“So, aren’t you going to do something about your boy toy’s little outburst?”

As if hazardly awoken from sleep, Mysterion’s eyes gradually begin to clear away the haze. He glances at the Coon before nodding to himself, coming to a decision.

“I do love you, Tweek, more than you have yet to know,” the bright yellow eyes fade away, his original blue pools resurfacing, “So I suppose it’s only fair to let you in on some harmless details. Don’t you think so, Coon?”

 

The brunette scoffs next to him, shrugging his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do what you want, I don’t care. I have to say though, I’m disappointed in you. I was hoping to see a beating, but as soon as I get here you suddenly decide to go soft,” he releases a low snicker from under his mask, his narcissistic grin sending a shiver across Tweek’s spine, “I can’t say that I’ll be as nice to my prize.”

Tweek’s stomach twists at the thought of someone else having to suffer as he is.

Shamefully, the idea becomes somewhat pleasant as he imagines similar, less insane company struggling beside him through this hell.

He’s never been good with being alone.

 

Unbeknownst to the conniving men, who have begun an animated debate about which of them made the best transition over to villainy and is superior overall, Tweek slipped into unconsciousness just after Mysterion’s single heartfelt moment. The pair stop arguing long enough for them to spot the blonde’s body uncomfortably slumped against the unforgiving floor. His eyelids twitch as Tweek battles an unpleasant world of blackness. The Coon sneers at the hurting hero, reduced to nothing more than a crumpled, beaten, and hollow shell of himself.

“How pathetic, dumb shit musta passed out from stress or something.” He ignores Mysterion’s glare, continuing to stare at the fainted hero with disdain, “Looking at him makes me sick. He was never much to start with, but this is plain sad. I barely saw him put up a fight.”

“Well, you should’ve been here two days ago. When he first got here, my little tiger was anything but cooperative. You missed out on all the fun,” Mysterion emits a low chuckle before gripping his partner’s shoulder, hovering over him with near yellow irises, “I don’t want to hear you talk about him like that again, got it? I’ve been giving him a hard time, even if all that was his fault. He’ll come around sometime.”

The Coon only spares his leader a cursory glance, his gaze returning to the corpse-like form a few meters away. Although he refuses to utter a word of it to Mysterion for various reasons, the sorry sight in front of him is giving Cartman a thrill. He certainly couldn’t care less about Tweek, but witnessing an ex-teammate, even one as frail as the conjurer, so torn apart has left him enthralled for what is to come with his own prize, and he knows for a fact that he’ll receive far more of a challenge. “I don’t get what you see in Tweenkie here, but I don’t think I wanna know what goes on in your head, especially after a demon fucked the shit outta it.”

Mysterion’s eyes narrow farther, slightly agitated by the Coon’s rudeness. Normally it wouldn’t bother him, as he had become accustomed to it through not just spending their childhood together, but having to manage the brunette as a teammate. However, he isn’t going to simply shrug off such insults aimed at his lover. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand why, considering you’re a psychotic bastard who doesn’t know shit about love,” Cartman’s body visibly straightens at those words, taking his time to drop his crossed arms and stare back at his superior with barely contained rage, “Tweek was always kind to me, and just being around him made me feel...whole. I’m not sure you’re capable of comprehending my explanation of why it has to be him, since my feelings are based on something pure and wonderful, unlike yours. I won’t bother wasting my time trying.”

“I don’t think you should be talking about sanity or love. You have no right to judge me, and besides, at least I know how fucked up I am. You, Mr. Perfect, have clearly lost your mind,” his hard frown fades into a devilish smirk, suddenly entertained by the prospect of the now unstable Kenny talking about his miserable emotions, ready to get a kick out of the storytelling, “Why don’t you give it go? I promise you that I’m more apt at listening to crazy people than you think.”

Hands on his hips, Mysterion scoffs at the blatant diss. Although, he was never one to turn away from discussing his love for Tweek, so what the hell?

“I’ve known that I liked Tweekie for a long while, but it really became unbearable fairly recently, as you can probably guess since I sorta kidnapped him and all. There was nothing special about that particular moment several months back, just before he had been taken away by Michael…”

Mysterion, like he had become accustomed to, was scrutinizing the television screen. His arms tightly crossed, the hero watched as a middle-aged reporter covered the story of an explosion within a museum that went off in the dead of night the day before. Fugitives had been attempting to steal some precious diamond recently put on display, and the group of five incapacitated the two security guards on the perimeter. Before falling into unconsciousness, one of them managed to use his remaining energy to radio the hero team. Upon receiving the message, the team had little time to debate about who should respond to the distress call. It seemed like a minor crime in progress in comparison to what they have previously faced (such as literal demons and monsters). However, much information about the ongoing crime was unknown due to the security guard passing out before offering key details, so it was agreed that a handful of them should get involved, more than they would usually send for thievery. Nonetheless, they were generally relaxed, even looking forward to stopping the mediocre crime.

Wonder Tweek, Super Craig, Mysterion, the Coon, and Human Kite were quick to enter the premises. Upon the team’s arrival, they were faced with criminals holding the guards hostage, clearly frightened by the heroes’ presence. There was one on each employee and three taking steps around the group to surround them. The guns in their hands trembled violently as they shouted for the heroes to stay back. Considered the team’s main negotiator, Human Kite did what he could to deescalate the situation, swiftly understanding that this bunch of criminals weren’t very experienced, or weren’t aware of how important the diamond is, instead drooling over its monetary value; that or they were desperate enough to try to steal such a prized artifact. It didn’t appear that they were expecting the heroes’ company, or any company for that matter, and didn’t know what to do next in order to escape, with or without their objective.

Even in the face of the criminals' panic, the rest of the team waited idly by for their partner to work his magic tongue as he always did. It was a sight to behold, witnessing Human Kite in his element. Each convict seemed to lock eyes with one another, half of the hands continuing to quake while the other half stilled. They were at an impasse.

But one of them was much less indecisive, and the Coon came to realize it far before the others did, him usually being the one on the team to assume the worst. The masked man’s fingers ceased their twitching, directing his gun towards Human Kite, readying himself to fire. Taking matters into his own hands, the Coon charged the fugitive, whose pistol was locked on the unsuspecting hero who was focused on the four in front of him. While the Coon was successful in protecting the intended target, the gun had gone off as he tackled the criminal. With its angle tilted, the bullet struck a hovering chandelier, which was quick to descend. It would’ve crushed Mysterion if Wonder Tweek hadn't rushed next to him and froze the plummeting decoration, reattaching it as an icicle stalagtite to the ceiling.

In that moment, Mysterion too became frozen, observing his panting partner whose ready reflexes saved him before he had noticed. Mysterion took him all in, drinking up Tweek’s thin frame as his body was still oddly reaching upwards, like he was preparing for the chandelier to somehow break free any second. Tweek’s eyes darted back and forth, looking the decoration up and down continuously to ensure that it was no longer a threat. They were a stunning mix of blue and green that Mysterion had been enchanted by ages ago. He's not certain when his feelings started, but time and time again, Mysterion found himself becoming more aware of everything Tweek did. His kindness and unique grace were truly something marvelous, and that moment was just another memento to emotions Mysterion had been trying to swallow for so long.

In the middle of a crime, Mysterion only saw Wonder Tweek and all his beauty.

Several more seconds went by before Tweek turned to Mysterion and managed a nervous laugh.

“T-There shoulda been some sort of warning outside the exhibit about falling objects, huh?”

Mysterion’s heart waged war against his ribcage as he finally acknowledged that he's utterly in love with his childhood friend and taken partner.

The rest of the room had become motionless as well, the majority of thieves too afraid to do anything and the one that was capable of reacting had been handcuffed by the Coon. One pointing his gun at the guard slowly leaned forward to place the weapon on the tiled ground and threw his arms up in surrender, and another did the same. In that same moment, the other two saw no way out, and one shot his hostage in the head and the second sent a bullet into Wonder Tweek’s chest. The hero immediately dropped, just as the two criminals losing their minds from fear and images of merciless prison fueled them to kill their fellow fugitives before killing themselves, their bodies hitting the floor moments after the wounded hero passed out.

Super Craig was the first to reach his boyfriend, who released a guttural cry of anguish before being shoved out of the way by Human Kite. The team's only conscious medic was quick to find a pulse and confirm Tweek’s gentle breaths. He barked orders to the rest of his team and they got to work moving the fallen hero while the Coon escorted the single criminal left to the authorities that had just arrived after receiving a tip from an outside bystander.

Mysterion’s own inhales were shallow and uneven as he helped carry Wonder Tweek to the doors where the ambulance waited. They all knew that it wasn't serious, as Human Kite had informed them, but it was never easy having a hurt teammate, since it didn't happen often. There was more to it that he refused to consider at that time, especially since he had spotted Super Craig glaring at him as they lifted Tweek. Mysterion figured that Craig had the right to be angry at him, for he had underestimated the threat when it was called in and ended up luring his teammates into a false sense of security, causing all of them to be off guard. His carelessness caused an easy to resolve crime to turn into a complete mess with one of his own injured and almost all of the fugitives dead along with a slain security guard. However, all of that was hardly his focus at the time, for all Mysterion could register was how light Tweek’s limp body was.

Mysterion had been reliving the scene repeatedly as he watched bits of it unfold on screen. Recordings showed the police cars rush to the building, and were soon greeted by several members of the hero group. Multiple officers went inside to retrieve the bodies, and the reporter voiced skepticism to how the crime was handled by the vigilantes. So many casualties surely meant that the superhero team had made egregious errors, right?

Mysterion gritted his teeth, though he was more than aware of the faults they had made. Crime had steadily been on the rise for months, and a seemingly harmless attempt on the most famous jewel to ever be present in the small town was supposed to be a gift wrapped reprieve for the team. As it was happening, Mysterion admitted that he was far too relaxed. They may have faced much worse, but that was no reason to act like anything below a threat on the world is child’s play. He had become too confident, and lives were lost because of it. The reporter had every right to insult them. Mysterion rubbed his temple as he felt a headache coming on.

The stress induced pain that was just beginning to encroach on his mind slithered away when a gentle hand positioned itself on his shoulder. He lifted his eyes and was met with Tweek’s gaze shimmering with support. While he was glad for the blonde’s sudden presence, Mysterion couldn’t help but degrade himself for not sensing him. Another example of his debilitated concentration...

“It’s not your fault. We all were restless and itching for a break,” Tweek had noticed Mysterion staring at his chest, and how lucky the former was to be alive and hardly damaged, “You can’t blame yourself. Even I had been looking forward to the mission and went in without really grounding my hopes and expectations.” Mysterion’s eyes hadn’t flickered away once from the wound he knew was under Tweek’s shirt. Tweek bit his lip as he thought of what he could do to cheer up their fearless leader that had been consumed by dread lately.

“It’s our j-job to do good, but we’re still human, Kenny.” Hearing his name had made the hero glance up, and Tweek managed a meek smile. “I’m a fast healer. I’ll be completely fine soon, so you focus on what we should do next and not on what has passed, okay? Your teammates need you. I need you to hold your head high and, um, lead us like you always do, but don’t forget that we’re also here for you. You don’t have to bear this weight alone, and frankly, if you get any more moody, you s-should go join the goths instead.”

Throughout Tweek’s spiel, Mysterion’s body had begun to grow lighter, and at the end he smothered a snort. A soft pink had spread across his masked cheeks along with a tingling sensation shooting through his limbs. He’d appreciated the warmth Tweek always seemed to carry around, especially after those few months of grief. Mysterion found himself questioning if Craig appreciated this personified sun as much as he did. Looking into Tweek’s sweet face and glowing eyes, Mysterion came to the sudden conclusion that Craig never would.

But he could.

How badly Mysterion had wanted to cradle his much smaller teammate, to reach him beyond his smile that hid plentiful pain and suck out the certain anguish that lingered behind those thin lips. Hunger had desperately pulled at Mysterion’s body to heave forward and touch the beautiful man in front of him, his frame tilting ever so slightly forward as he accepted that he couldn’t hold himself back.

Tweek’s smile dropped, appearing confused at the sudden shift in his leader’s aura, like he could sense the conflict storming inside. He craned his neck to the side, his need to ask if his superior was okay palpable, the silent question heavying the room. For some time, Tweek had been aware of the cold darkness surrounding Mysterion. It was clear to him that his leader had needed rest, but something deeper than that had slowly drained Mysterion, and Kenny, of his morale. It was true that crime had shot up for a still unknown reason, each one crueler than the last and the team walking away with less victims saved. It had been bothering all of them, but Mysterion was generally the best at controlling his emotions when faced with losses.

Although he refused to say it, seeing Mysterion so lost had unsettled Tweek greatly, and he fidgeted under his leader’s continuous scrutiny, unsure of what to do. He was never one for conflict, and while he wanted to understand what was bothering his leader, Tweek wasn’t the type of person to be so direct. What if Mysterion took what he said the wrong way and lashed out at him?

It was a shame that he ended up being the only person on the team to notice. The hero had become reliant on his leader’s constant stoic nature and objectivity as it helped to keep Tweek’s mind stable throughout any dangers and complications. Tweek needed Mysterion to be at ease so that he could be okay too. After fiddling with his hands for what felt like decades, Tweek went beside Mysterion and pressed his head into his shoulder, their sides bumping together. Mysterion had gone terribly motionless, like his soul had fled out of his body and his mere figure was all that remained. Unbeknownst to Tweek, Mysterion’s senses were anything but off, his heart clapping wildly and his nose greedily inhaling Tweek’s scent.

“I-I can tell that something’s wrong, but I won’t push it,” the blonde mumbled into the crook of Mysterion’s neck, “I'm, uh, worried though, so if you ever want to open up, you can count on me. I w-wanna be there for you like you are for all of us…” The leader's covered cheeks had lit up once more with splashes of red, so blissfully content with their position, how perfectly Tweek fit against him. A shudder jolted along his spine as he managed to stay still, swallowing down his instincts. He wanted to spill his prolonging feelings for his teammate so badly, but he knew that he wouldn't get the answer he wished to hear. At the very least, Tweek’s offer to listen would have no consequences, and he couldn't pass up the chance to bond.

“I check up on my family at least once a week, but so much has been happening around the city that I haven't had the chance recently,” Mysterion’s low but hardened tone had made Tweek adjust his posture against him as he became more attentive, “I guess I've been putting off seeing them too. My parents...have gotten involved with some other cult, and we argued about it. As soon as they mentioned it, I got so angry and refused to listen any further. They just don't seem to learn, you know? How do I help people who don't want to help themselves?” A heavy sigh escaped from his dry throat, releasing bits of the tension that had been bottled up. Tweek had bit his lip in contemplation. His relationship with his family was rocky at times, but definitely not as strained as Kenny’s old home life. He didn't want to give advice when he lacked the proper perspective, but Tweek did what he could nonetheless.

“If I've learned anything from being a hero, it's that anything can happen to anyone at any time. It's helped me not take things for granted,” he let out a breathy laugh that sparked the skin underneath Mysterion’s costume, “I try to be more aware of that when I'm arguing with Craig. The point is that they'll always be your family, and you may fight, but you'll still love each other once it's over, no matter what.” Listening to his own words and thinking back to all the pointless spats with Craig that were speedily remedied, Tweek found confidence in his message, angling his head to stare into Mysterion’s anticipating eyes.

“Go talk to your family. Tell them how much you care about them, and that you're going to help them through this. Sometimes, people need an outside force to jostle them off their current path, even if they know it's the wrong one.” Tweek’s smile returned as he reached over to grasp his leader's hand, “We all know how much you care for them. Everything will work itself out, I promise.” All at once, Mysterion was overwhelmed by multiple emotions that froze him further in place, gawking in awe at his teammate.

Adoration.

Appreciation.

Longing...

Hatred.

What was he going to do knowing that this wondrous man belonged to someone else, and to the apathetic Craig no less? That fact has been true for six years, but more than ever, it terrorized Kenny. From the depths of his shunned thoughts of love arose a violent monster. It made the hurtful information the single object in the hero’s mind, ripping him apart in seconds. It was like something so terrible that one can't draw their gaze away, though for Mysterion, that horrendous car crash was the truth, one that he'd swallowed down for ages as it was shoved into his view nearly every day.

His brain fueled by jealousy, glimpses of Craig and Tweek together sped along like a film, each scene having capturing more and more intimacy of the two. Looking into Tweek’s soft gentle gaze with set eyes, Mysterion contemplated how he managed to hold back for so long. Perhaps he was used to not getting what he wanted, everything always in sight but never close enough to grasp. To disprove that point, Mysterion reached over enough to cover both of Tweek’s veined hands with his gloves. Offering the kind blonde his own smile, rarely found underneath his mask, Mysterion came to a decision: He was going to have Tweek, no matter how he had to earn him.

“Thank you Wonder Tweek, you've been a big help. Just mentioning this to someone has changed my attitude,” his grip on the thinner fingers had unconsciously tightened, sending an uncomfortable shiver throughout the rest of Tweek’ body, “I think I'll follow up on them tonight after patrol.” With those words Tweek’s smile had perked up, and it was intoxicating enough that it caused Mysterion to smile in return.

Little did either of them know what was to come after Mysterion's routine visit of protocol...


End file.
